


First Born Son

by caesarjoestar



Series: "you should see him, hes beautiful." [1]
Category: In the Flesh (TV)
Genre: Abuse, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Child Abuse, Drug Addiction, Drug Use, Homelessness, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, M/M, Prostitution, Self-Harm, Suicide, also its in the flesh so no one stays dead for long, the rape/underage stuff isnt explicet but its still there so i tagged it as that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-09
Updated: 2018-10-09
Packaged: 2019-07-28 18:37:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16247489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caesarjoestar/pseuds/caesarjoestar
Summary: Kieren Walker had been the first of the undead to rise, the first born zombie. Simon Monroe had been the first of the undead cured of his rabid state, the first born ‘PDS sufferer’.





	First Born Son

Kieren had been Sue and Steve’s first child, their first born. They welcomed him with open arms into the world and filled his small, little body with all the love they could possibly give him. For the first years of his life, Kieren couldn’t have had it better, sure his parents weren’t perfect but they raised him to the best of their abilities. 

 

When he was three years old his mum sat him down and told him that in the next nine months he would have a little brother or sister. Kieren had honestly been scared, he heard some of the other kids at school talking about how much they hated their sibling and how annoying they were. Kieren didn’t want that, he liked his quiet life of just him, his mum and his dad, although Kieren being the polite and shy boy that he was didn’t tell either of his parents any of that.

 

Kieren found himself proven wrong when Jem was born, and he couldn’t have been happier. After many, many hours of labour and sitting in the waiting room outside his mother’s hospital room his father brought him into the room and up to the bed. He could barely see over the top of it but then his father lifted him up and sat him on the edge of the bed and saw a tiny, little baby swaddled in blankets in his mother’s arms.

 

She smiled warmly at him, a look of profound happiness that he had no name for in her eyes.

“Kieren, say hello to your new little sister,  _ Jemima _ .” She turned the baby in her arms so he could see her face and his stomach fell out of him (in a good way.) He looked down at her sweet, little face and all he could feel was love. Kieren knew at that moment he wouldn’t be like the other kids, he wouldn’t hate her or find her annoying or not talk to her,  _ no _ , Kieren wasn’t like that.

 

It seemed that the other kids also noticed he wasn’t like everyone else because all the other boys would bully him and the girls turn their backs on him. It was at this time that Kieren realised that there really was something different about himself, his parents had always said it was good he was different, he was his own person but now he saw that nobody else seemed to feel that way. Well, all except Rick. Rick Macy was the most popular boy in their whole class, he was friends with everyone and everyone liked him. One day while during lunch time when all the other kids were playing with each other in the playground, Kieren stayed inside the classroom like he always did and drawed. Until Rick came up beside him and complimented his drawing and after that, the two boys became best friends, they were inseparable.

 

_ Until Rick forcibly separated them that is _ . 

 

Kieren loved Rick with all his heart, and Rick loved him too but he had so many problems he wasn’t ready to work out yet. His father was overbearing and incredibly bigoted, Bill Macy had so many ideas of what a ‘ _ real man _ ’ should be and Kieren Walker didn’t fit any of them. So Rick had to pretend to the rest of the world that he wasn’t anything like Kieren.  He had been okay with that once, once he believed that it would be like that until they both left for uni and they would be able to leave and live freely. They could hold hands in public instead of only in the den, Kieren could sneak kisses whenever he liked instead of when they were completely 100% no one else was nearby. They could be themselves. 

 

_ Kieren Walker was never a lucky person.  _

 

Rick left for the army one day without ever telling Kieren and then he never replied to any of his letters so of course, Kieren assumed that this was the end, the end of their relationship. Since he was fourteen years old Kieren’s plan for the whole rest of his life had centred around Rick. They’d go to uni, graduate, move to the city together, get their dream jobs, get married, adopt a kid or two and live with each for the rest of their lives. Now that he looked back at it he could see just how naive he was but at the time it felt like this whole life came crashing down and then Rick got deployed and got  _ fucking _ killed and this time Kieren’s world came down with him.

 

Kieren had always struggled with himself, with who he knew he was and who he loved but now it felt like there wasn’t anything else left. During his teenage years, he had on occasion taken the swiss army knife his father had given him and took it to the top of his thighs, cutting long lines into them and watching the blood flow down his legs. Luckily he had Rick at that time to help him stop but now he felt like he had no one, not his mum, his dad or his sister. Just Kieren on his own once again.

 

The whole week that Rick died, Kieren locked himself in his bedroom with only his knife for company. His parents had tried to comfort him but he had pushed them away, feeling numb to everything. Even when he brought the knife to his skin he didn’t get that kind of instant relief he use to, he felt nothing and everything at the same time. He knew what he needed to do, so one night when the rest of his family had gone to sleep Kieren snuck out of the house and down to the den. He sat when he and Rick always, where they had written their names on the wall of the cave, rolled up his sleeves and let himself go. Finally, he felt the only true moment of relief he had ever felt his whole life.

  
  
  


Simon’s parents weren’t bad people, not per se, they had just been brought up on the same bigoted views their parents had been brought up on. So they also brought their son Simon up on those values too, however from the moment he was born Simon knew, deep inside himself that it didn’t matter. Their views were wrong and everything they built their life and values on didn’t matter at all. Nothing mattered in fact, not for Simon.

 

His parents were raised as Irish Catholic and that’s what they raised their son as too. Their religion was important to them and to everyone else who lived in the same small Irish village as them. Simon was different from them, too different. He wasn’t afraid the vocally go against them, to shoot down their views and their faith in God and while he may know that it wrong to do so now it couldn’t be changed. Simon Monroe was the outcast of the town and no one tried to help him, no knew  _ how _ to help him. 

 

Simon had always had problems with making friends and functioning in society, knowing what to say and how to act but he honestly couldn’t care less about it. His father however did, he tried to beat it out of him. Tired to beat ‘the Devil’ out of him as he would say. Even though he didn’t believe in Catholicism sometimes Simon thought he really might have the Devil in him. 

 

When he was ten years old announced that she was having another child and Simon felt relief. He thought with another child, especially a younger one that’d put all their attention on them so Simon could be freer, and it was true while she was pregnant that house became happy for the first time in Simon’s life and his father was doteing on his wife hand and foot. That was until around four months into the pregnancy his mother had begun to bleed heavily and suddenly while she was at work. That day he had been taken out of school to go see his mother in the hospital and when he got there he saw her uncontrollably sobbing into the sheets of the bed she was sitting in. No one had to tell him what happened, he could feel it in the pit of his stomach like someone had smashed his soul upon a rock. There would be no younger sibling.

 

His mother never really got over it and she never tried for more children, Simon supposed after her miscarriage it was too much to handle. He understood why but that didn’t mean he liked it.

 

Once he hit puberty he started noticing the other boys in his class in ways he hadn’t before (or maybe he always had and just hadn’t realised it until now.) Noticed the way Dylan Byrne played with his fingers when he felt nervous, the way Oliver Moore’s blonde hair shone like gold in the daylight or the way Nathan Kelly’s laugh sounded like cute, little hiccups when he laughed uncontrollably. 

 

One day it all dawned on him why he had begun noticing all those things and it had been both terrifying and freeing. 

 

When he was fifteen Simon had managed to get himself a boyfriend, turned out Nathan Kelly had also been noticing him too. They were only a month into their relationship but it felt better than anything Simon had ever experienced in his honestly quite miserable life. He had decided to take Nathan over to his house since he knew both his parents were at work that day. Him and Nathan still being just children really sat on the sofa of the Monroe house and the after-school shows together. They cuddled up close together on the sofa, their hands entwined and Nathan’s head resting on his shoulder. Simon wished he live in this moment for the rest of his life. 

 

_ Of course, Simon had never been a lucky person either. _

 

Just as he leaned over and placed a kiss upon Nathan’s lips did Iain Monroe walk through the door and caught his only son kissing another boy. In a fit of rage he grabbed his son by the shoulders, forcibly tearing the two boys apart and throwing his son across the room (this gave Nathan enough to sprint out the door, not once looking back.)

 

Simon stood back up slowly on shaky legs and took a punch from his father square in his face, and then another and another and another until Simon was barely conscious. His blood covered his school uniform shirt, the carpet beneath him and his father’s knuckles. Iain moved from where he straddling Simon’s body and turned to him, “Get out.” 

 

Even in his bloodied state Simon still somehow managed to lift himself up from the floor and stumbled out the door, that was the last time he saw his father until he died and was resurrected.

 

Simon didn’t have anywhere he could go and new traveled fast in small towns like so everyone knew about his sexuality within a matter of days and no one wanted to take in a  _ faggot _ . So, he walked and walked and walked. Through the neighboring villages and towns until he reached the nearest city, cold, hungry and alone. He hadn’t brought any money with him, he didn’t have the time to so he stood a little ways away from a bin and waited for someone the throw in their unwanted food, and someone did. A half-eaten sandwich thrown away by a middle-aged lady and as much as it disgusted him, Simon hadn’t eaten in at least two days by this point.

 

Being homeless sucked, being a homeless teenager sucked just that bit more. No one liked to help the homeless and he was still wearing his school uniform for God’s sake. Only a few people had been good enough to at least chuck a few euros at him. 

 

The daytime in the city was fine, it was just the hunger and boredom that bothered him but at night was a whole different story. He had to find somewhere safe to sleep which was much easier said than done. He also didn’t have anything to keep him warm so even if he did find someone safe enough to sleep her wouldn’t be able to because the sleep kept him up. 

 

He took to wandering the streets to get a sense of the city and one night he found the red-light district of the city. It was littered with sex shops, brothels, and scantily clad men and women waiting on the streets in the cold for a chance to get money for that night. He stood and stared at them, he knew deep inside himself he could do this, it would probably be the easiest way to get money and a place to stay here. If on cue a car pulled up beside him, the driver rolled down the window and asked, “How much?”

 

Simon didn’t even hesitate, “ _ €100 _ ”

 

He didn’t enjoy it one bit, in fact, he hated the whole experience. He was in agony afterward and he couldn't stop himself from weeping but he now had more money then he had ever held in his hands before in his life. So he kept doing it. Only whenever he had run out of money at first then one night his client had taken him to party. They supplied him alcohol and enough valium to knock him out while they all took turns on him. He found that he didn’t care when he woke up.

 

After that, he went to a lot of parties like that, got drunk or high (or both) and fucked anyone he could there for money. It was fun at first the drink and drugs that is, the rush he got from it was exhilarating but then he began to find life unbearable when he wasn’t drunk or high.

At some point he had gotten enough money together to rent a place with some friends he had made, all of them drug addicts or drug addicted drug dealers. Living with drug dealers had its pros and cons. It meant he was never that far away from his next high but it also meant since he was able to get all these drugs he constantly had to have enough money to pay for them, and that was hard when he didn’t have a pimp. There was no one to help him get clients, he had to do it all himself.

 

Over the years spent on the streets and living in that flat with his mates he had started off on weed and valium and had now moved up onto meth and heroin, and still, he couldn’t find it in himself to care. His life didn’t matter anyway.

 

On the 26th of September 2009 at the age of twenty-seven Simon Monroe knowingly brought more heroin than his body could take, shot it up, overdosed and died on the stairs of his flat building. He died finally letting all of his pain and suffering go.

  
  
  
  


Kieren Walker had been the first of the undead to rise, the first born zombie. Simon Monroe had been the first of the undead cured of his rabid state, the first born ‘PDS sufferer’.

 

And somehow they had found each other, found love together. Real, honest love. Love that neither of them thought that they could ever have. They finally realised that life was worth living.

**Author's Note:**

> so its kinktober and i havent updated that since the 4th and wrote this instead oops but i promise ill write more kinktober stuff (who knowns maybe kieren and simon might make an appearance ;))
> 
> sorry that this is so dark but like both these boys had pretty bad lives. well i mean like we didnt get much of simons backstory from where he was alive other then he was a drug addict so i made up what i thought could be his backstory
> 
> i really wanna write more siren tbh and next time ill make it less sad lmao


End file.
